


a little sidekick b****, a basic hot girl who peaked in high school, and a couch in NYC.

by oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Couches, Don't Ask, F/F, Gay, Gay Panic, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mario Kart, NYC, Popcorn, Sex Jokes, That 70's show - Freeform, The Office, Will & Grace - Freeform, competive children, friends - Freeform, hope and amy - Freeform, i need a xanax, inception joke, jerry springer mention, kaitlyn dever mention, not sponsored by food network, rip amy's ankle, single asf, soft!hope, trampoline park, two beans and a couch, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY/pseuds/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY
Summary: “The lady was turned, you were fine,” Hope shakes her head, “You can’t break rules if no one important sees you do it.”Amy frowns, “You had to carry me out of there because I was crying so much Hope.”“You couldn’t even put pressure on your foot Ames.”Amy huffs out something incoherent, folding her arms over her chest, she sighs, “I heard some boy call me old on our way out.”“Just be glad that it wasn’t a fracture though,” Hope finishes, “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that my date night idea ended up with us going to the emergency room and your whole leg in a cast.”“I wouldn’t mind doing it over again,” Amy laughs softly, “I liked you carrying me everywhere for that first night.”“Well my back didn’t like it much.”“Mhm, sure,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Tell that to your past self who was so adamant on being able to carry me up three flights of stairs and through a locked doorway.”
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart)
Kudos: 32
Collections: Mentally_Unstable_Gays





	a little sidekick b****, a basic hot girl who peaked in high school, and a couch in NYC.

**Author's Note:**

> _first of all... lets all just take a second to just appreciate this title._
> 
> _thank you... carry on._
> 
> _I meant to get this up sooner but i've been so busy._
> 
> _i was watching a bunch of diana silvers' instagram edits last night and i came across one that was a slowed down version of "girls" by the 1975 and i straight up started bawling my eyes out... she's so perfect... how in the world is that even possible?_
> 
> _anyway... i have no idea what this even is but your welcome to judge me for it... it was meant to be two soft happy beans hanging out, but quickly turned into some competitive bullshit._
> 
> _this is just... yikes though... yikes._

It’s mid-afternoon on a weekday when Hope manages to set aside a day off of her day job. It’s not a big deal, Amy’s normally very willing to take days off anyway. The reason behind that, however. was to just to recoup and spend time together, _well_.

Hope’s usually extremely sentimental about things like that, the togetherness aspect, things of that nature.

Amy figured that out once she got back from Botswana, there was a lot of things actually that she figured out about Hope in that span of time from then to now, many of which she still couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was really a side of Hope that Amy had never seen back in grade school.

Hope being extremely energized and always adamant about celebrating little milestones.

It just so happened it was some strange anniversary of her and Hope’s relationship or _something_ along those lines, it hasn’t been long, but it hasn’t exactly been a week either. More so several months, but Amy can’t honestly keep track of anything anymore.

She honestly never really did, she left Hope to that. Hope was quite good at that sort of thing anyway.

Hope’s voice from the other room is what startles her from her thoughts, mentally debating on what she should need for their day “date.”

_“Oh fuck!”_

Amy’s brow scrunches up in confusion at the sudden tone, her first thought being that Hope might have stubbed her toe on the couch again, but she doesn’t think twice in the matter, quickly turning to grab a set of crutches that lay propped up on the edge of their bed, and balancing them beneath her arms as she shuffles out into the living area of their shared apartment.

“What’s wrong?” She manages to squeak out, looking at Hope’s turned body, it’s facing the sliding glass door that lead out to their small balcony area.

“It’s raining,” Hope says bluntly, craning her body to glance at her briefly before pointing her index finger to the glass, “Look.”

Amy does her best to move to stand beside Hope, relief at the knowledge of her not being hurt, yet being cautious not to trip over her walking boot to glance out of the glass door, Hope helps take her crutches seconds later so she can get a better look.

True to the word, rain droplets seem to cling to the thin pane of glass separating them from the outside elements. It makes Amy deflate, visibly sighing and earning Hope’s arm to snake around her to wrap over her shoulder, tugging her inward gently to smooth her arm, Hope’s lips coming to press against her forehead lightly before resting her chin onto Amy’s head.

“I really wanted to go on our picnic,” Amy says after a minute, her voice laced with disappointment as she then turns to press her cheek against Hope’s t-shirt.

“I know,” Hope murmurs back softly, “Central Park will be there another day, we can do it then.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hope cuts her off, “It’s just rain, we can just do something else with our day off.”

“I just hate mother nature sometimes,” Amy mumbles, the response causes Hope to chuckle softly before humming out lightly.

“Yeah,” Hope states amusedly, “She can be a real _bitch_ sometimes.”

“After _all_ I’ve done for her too,” Amy comments, “All of the events and environmental protests.”

“It’s just rain Amy,” Hope shakes her head, “It’s _not_ a big deal.”

“I just would think that she would give us this _one_ thing,” Amy states, looking back to the window, “Like it’s not that hard to go according to a weather forecast.”

Hope shrugs, “it is what it is, I can make us some popcorn, we’ll have a day in instead.”

“That sounds fun, I guess,” Amy purses her lips, “Better than sitting around,”

“Yeah?” Hope asks, raising a brow in suspicion, and shifting her face to look at her girlfriend as she nods slowly, making Hope’s face break out in a light smile, “Cool, I’ll help you get situated on the couch first.”

“But it’s—”

“I want to help you and your crippled foot.”

“It’s a sprained ankle,” Amy tries, “I can still walk Hope,”

Hope shakes her head firmly at Amy’s statement, “Nu-uh,” she refuses, “You are going to receive help from your _amazing_ girlfriend, and you are going to _like_ it damnit. The doctor said you shouldn’t do too much on your own anyway.”

“No. _You_ said that,” Amy frowns.

“I said no such thing,” Hope replies, “he said not to put a lot of pressure on it babe.”

“Fine, whatever,” Amy alludes with a huff, the reaction makes Hope start to laugh in amusement causing Amy to raise a brow in slight annoyance, “What’s so funny?”

“Your just cute, that’s all,” Hope quips airily. Amy frowns in frustration at the statement, folding her arms over her chest while giving the taller girl a stern glare.

“I’m _not_ cute,” Amy states firmly.

“Yes you are,” Hope teases, a smirk hinting her lips.

“Fuck off,” Amy sticks out her tongue, attempting to turn around after grabbing her crutches that Hope had set down near them, and trying to walk semi-properly across the hardwood floor back into their bedroom, she hears Hope’s quiet laugh and her footsteps as they walk a few steps before pausing where Amy guesses could be in the small kitchenet.

“Where’d you go just now?” She hears Hope ask.

“Getting something.”

“Okay,” Hope replies, “I’m making popcorn now then.”

Amy frowns dumbfoundly after a minute, hearing the humdrum of Hope moving around in the other room by opening and closing a few cabinets. She looks around the bedroom briefly before shivering slightly and catching sight of a hoodie that was slung over a decorative chair that was mostly meant be an alternative reading spot for herself, however, because of Hope’s untidy habits from her childhood, said habits had somehow managed to throw up all over it, instead, using it as a place to discard clean or semi-clean laundry as well as other assorted items.

Amy’s always been anal about that sort of thing, Hope’s caught her after two in the morning some nights after they’ve been intimate or hell, just lying there half awake, where Amy just gets this _thought_ in her head that she _just_ needs to clean and make the chair spotless, however, since her _‘accident’_ she hasn’t quite been as motivated to go after that.

Hope wouldn’t be much of an enabler of that sort of thing either, seeing as how she thought it was strenuous work and when it came down to it, she really only felt it was safe to have Amy grounded the majority of the time of her healing process.

Of course they still went for walks, or tried to go for walks every now and again. Depending on how long Amy could tolerate putting weight on her foot or using her crutches.

That said, Amy still saw loopholes in some things, and Hope still made exceptions for _certain_ things.

It was _just_ a sprained ankle, anyway, not like it was a broken hand or finger.

Amy moves to slide the fabric over her head, letting it fit over her t-shirt and cotton shorts, she turns to grab onto the edge of the bed for support then leaning slightly down to grab her crutches again, shifting around to leave the room and turning back into the small hallway.

She spots Hope standing in front of the stove, quickly causing racket with their pan as she obnoxiously disperses the unpopped kernels over the glowing dot, Effortlessly making Amy’s brows furrow as it begins to pop after a few minutes of her standing there.

“Are you burning it?” Amy questions, Hope looks over at her, her other hand resting on her waist as she stands there continuing to swish the popping kernels around the closed lidded pan.

“I’ve done this before,” Hope replies sarcastically, “I think I’ve got this.”

“ _Right_ ,” Amy rolls her eyes, “If you think it’s not burning, then go ahead and be my guest.”

“It’s only been going for about a minute or so Amy, it’s not going to _burn_ , Jesus Christ.”

“Well, I want tea,” Amy states bluntly, attempting to hobble over to the counter beside Hope and flip open an overhead cabinet, letting her crutches lean against the counter beside her as she tries to prop her body weight on her hand to get a better reach, only coming up short of her fingers skimming the edge of the tea box on the highest shelf.

“You need help?”

“Nope,” Amy quips, easily determined to achieve her goal of getting the item with Hope continuing to focus on the popcorn beside her.

But like some things, Hope tends not to always listen when Amy insists on not wanting help. There’s a minute where Hope quickly shuts the burner off and before Amy really realizes it, she’s almost certain Hope’s disappeared, quickly finding Hope’s hands at her hips and with some strange strength, she lifts her a few inches off of the ground to be able to snatch the box from the shelf.

“Thanks,” Amy says, craning herself around in a messy motion to press a quick kiss to the corner of Hope’s mouth as she starts to tend to the silent pan. Lifting the lid to reveal somewhat popped and on the verge of burning kernels.

“You know you’re really suborn,” Hope laughs out, reaching for a set aside bowel and swiftly pouring the product into it, “I was given my height because _you_ were short.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Amy bites back an amused smile as she fills up a mug with water from the faucet and rips open a tea bag.

“Well,” Hope shrugs, shaking the popcorn before popping a kernel into her mouth, “All I’m saying is that you need to not be so opposed to me helping you more often.”

“Sure, sure,” Amy frowns, opening the microwave and putting the mug on the turning plate in the center, closing it and pressing a few buttons, letting it hum to life.

“I’m serious here,” Hope scorns, “Cool it, your short and it’s nice.”

“How is—” Amy pivots slightly on her foot in shock, before scoffing in disapproval and shaking her head, “Shut up for once.”

“Never,” Hope states smartly.

“ _Hope_ ,” Amy’s eyes narrow in annoyance, “I swear to fucking God.”

The taller girl gives a short laugh in reply, shaking her head with a smile, “I guess you’re not _that_ short.”

“That’s better,” Amy affirms with a nod, gesturing a hand to the bowel in Hope’s grasp making her frown, “Did you burn it at all?”

“No,” Hope states, immediately clutching the bowel further against herself, “And you _can’t_ have _any_ either.”

“Why?” Amy practically whines out, “You said you were making it.”

“I never said anything about sharing with someone who is mean.”

“Mean!” Amy scoffs lightly, “You’re the one who’s not sharing.”

Hope laughs, “I was kidding jeez,” Hope moves back into the connected living area and sets the bowel onto a neighboring side table, quickly turning around to retreat back to Amy, “You want me to help you get situated?”

“I think—” Amy shifts slightly, and grabs hold of Hope’s arm as it protectively snakes out around her shoulders, using Hope’s body to lean on for support as they move across the apartment a few feet before coming to a halt a few inches beside the couch, finding Hope’s hands eagerly helping to let her sit down comfortably, coming to pull up a foot stool and propping up her right foot.

“There,” Hope sighs, “You think it’s time for ice?”

“It’s been looking good, there isn’t that much swelling anymore,” Amy says after a minute, “I think we should be fine, thank you.”

“Your comfortable?” Hope raises a brow, attempting to gage a level of comfort regarding her girlfriend’s leisure position on the couch, Amy nods confidently in reply seconds later, “Are you sure?” Hope continues, still unsure of an answer.

“I feel comfortable,” Amy confirms.

“Do you want to take it off then?”

“The boot?” Amy looks down, and Hope nods, “I mean I don’t think we can—”

“It shouldn’t matter, you’re not walking in it, we’re not going out.”

“But the doctor said, Hope,” Amy shakes her head with a sly smile, and Hope’s expression easily reflects one of amusement.

“Just testing you,” Hope turns to grab the bowel and hands it over to Amy who takes it into her lap, as well as the TV remote, “You find us something good, okay?”

“I’ve got this,” Amy nods enthusiastically, Hope moves to grab Amy’s crutches from their spot in the kitchen as well as her newly made tea.

“But no _Food Network_ ,” Hope corrects, leaving the mug on a coaster and glancing to the TV as Amy points the remote at it, “Amy, I swear to God.”

“I want to watch Amy Schumer and her husband.”

“No,” Hope shakes her head, “I will _not_ tolerate another _Amy Schumer Learns to Cook_.”

“She’s funny,” Amy shakes her head, clearly disappointed.

“Okay,” Hope replies flatly, “I love you, but in all honesty, she is not funny, and I’m a strong believer that, that show is some form of Japanese water torcher.”

“You laughed at her when we watched it last Thursday,” Amy tries and Hope frowns.

“I was kind of high last Thursday,” Hope corrects, shaking her head in defeat as she turns on her heel, “anyway, it’s things like that, that make me remember why I never talked to you in high school.”

“You love me,” Amy calls back, watching as Hope wanders back into the hallway. She looks back to the TV and starts to flip through the channels unenthusiastically, she skims past _Animal Planet,_ pausing momentarily on her search to watch a heard of caribou run through some meadow with a grizzly bear hot on the herd’s trail. 

She clicks it onto one of the daytime soap operas after that and instantly regrets it as Hope makes her way back into the room a few minutes later, a large comforter slung over both of her shoulders almost looking as if she had manipulated it into some sort of cape that drug a few feet behind her as she walked into Amy’s view.

“Did you find anything?” She asks.

“I don’t think you want to watch _Days of Our Lives_ ,” Amy replies grimly, glancing to Hope before looking back to the TV, “Is that from our bed?”

“Sure is,” Hope confirms with a proud smile, coming closer to the other girl who looks at her curiously, “Lift your arms.” Amy narrows her eyes at the girl for a minute, hesitantly lifting her arms into the air, the remote dangling from her right hand as Hope moves the popcorn to the table and momentarily struggles to rein the comforter to fly over Amy’s bottom half to cover her, managing to get her boot caught up in the general scene as Hope finally succeeds in her task. It’s now that Amy realizes that Hope’s changed her pants into a pair of black leggings while still keeping her shirt from before.

“You feel better?” Amy raises a brow, “I see you changed.”

“You’re quite the observer then,” Hope laughs out softly, grabbing the bowel and moving to tuck herself in onto the left of Amy’s frame, managing to cover herself with the comforter as Amy flicks onto their DVR, “What looks good here?”

“ _Jerry Springer_ ,” Hope replies quickly, nudging Amy’s arm with her own, “Let’s watch _Jerry Springer_ , come on Ames.”

“Why?” Amy states, clearly annoyed at the request as Hope completely takes charge of the popcorn bowel, “That show is so violent.”

“It’s funny,” Hope chaises, “Everyone on it are just trashy southerners.”

“I don’t understand how that’s funny,” Amy frowns, “It’s just a bunch of infidelity and fighting.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing else on.”

Amy looks over to Hope, “I still don’t want to watch people fighting Hope. I’m not thirteen, I don’t find that entertaining.”

“I mean we’re twenty three and you’re now commenting on me acting I’m thirteen when last night—”

Amy looks away quickly at the mention of last night’s events, on the verge of blushing in embarrassment in being called out for something completely normal between them, “Yes, yes. I know what happened last night.”

“Mhm,” Hope nods with a suggestive smirk that practically screams smugness, “So, don’t act like I’m thirteen, okay? What happened last night was _not_ what all thirteen year-olds do.”

Amy breaks out into a nervous laugh as she glances back to Hope for a minute, all too concerned on trying to hold herself together and avoiding the sudden rush of blood coming to her cheeks as she looks back to the TV to flick further through their DVR, “We get it Hope, you got laid, it’s not that big of deal.”

“It is for you,” Hope bites, nudging Amy’s side with her arm as she pops another kernel into her mouth and gives an amused snicker, “You fucking virgin.”

“You were one too,” Amy chimes in sarcastically, struggling to come back with literally _anything_ to keep Hope off of her case.

“Yeah, but I didn’t lose mine when I was like—”

“Shut up about this!” Amy interrupts firmly, “it’s not that serious, Jesus Christ.”

“Just put on _Jerry Springer_ babe,” Hope states again, “Come on, please?”

Amy looks over with a tight lipped pout, “ _Not_ happening.”

“Okay well,” Hope sighs in slight defeat, “What about _Last Man Standing_?”

“That show sucks,” Amy frowns at the request, looking to Hope once again before biting the inside of her cheek, “You only want to watch it so you can _‘jack off’_ to that one chick.”

“It doesn’t—” Hope breathes out what almost sounds like an actual wheeze, “Amy. Oh my fucking God.”

“Yeah,” Amy gives an all too relative smile as she flicks through the other recordings, “Quit talking, I know you do it when I’m not around.”

“Her name is Kaitlyn Dever, and no I do _not_ do that, holy shit.”

“Whatever,” Amy replies dryly, “You said some shit about her the other night.”

“I said she was pretty babe,” Hope frowns, “There’s a difference between wanting to get _railed_ by someone, or just admiring their beauty as a goddamn human being.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “You said, and I quote, _‘I’d totally let her rail me.’_ ”

“I said no such thing,” Hope counters, “Your making shit up.”

“ _Will & Grace_, and that’s my final offer.”

“But—”

“ _Will & Grace_,” Amy interjects, gritting her teeth and glaring over to Hope, “Final offer.”

“What about _The Office_? Can’t we—”

“No.”

“ _That 70’s Show_?” Hope tries half-heartedly, “I can go get my box set from our room and we can ogle over fetus Laura Prepon again.”

“Hope,” Amy groans, “We’ve watched that so many times, that and _Friends_.”

“No ma’am,” Hope shakes her head, “We have not watched either of those as much as we have watched the fine masterpiece that is _The Office_.”

“Which is why,” Amy trails off, clicking the enter button over the reran recorded episode of _Will & Grace_, “I would like to watch Jack McFarland make an ass out of himself with Karen Walker.”

“Whatever,” Hope relaxes, “One episode.”

“One episode,” Amy echoes, “Then we’ll watch what you want.”

“ _Jerry Springer_.”

“Anything else but _Jerry Springer_ ,” Amy corrects as the title screen plays only to find Grace storming into Will’s apartment with a subsequent issue on her hands seconds later.

“What about _RuPaul’s Drag Race_?” Hope interrupts, scooting closer to Amy’s side, only to have Amy shake her head in disapproval.

“I thought we were all caught up episode wise,” Amy surmises, “Did we catch up from last Sunday’s episode of _90 Day Fiancé_?”

“Ugh,” Hope groans, “No. Dear God please none of that show right now.”

“I thought you liked it?”

“They’re all straights,” Hope grimaces, “We do not speak of the straights in this household.”

“It’s an apartment Hope.”

“Still,” Hope confirms, “Straights are straights.”

“Oh, I know. We can watch the episode of _Jeopardy!_ from last night,” Amy chimes in, checking the clock on the TV guide after pressing info button to display information about the season two episode that was playing.

“You’re the only one who wants to watch _Jeopardy!”_ Hope replies flatly, “Perhaps you can call up Molly and you two can have a race to guess what the answers are.”

“I don’t understand,” Amy questions, “She’s in New Haven.”

“I mean like, that thing where you call her, and you watch the same thing at the same time together despite not being in the same room as her.”

“Oh right, that thing,” Amy nods, “I guess I could text her to see if she and Annabelle recorded it last night.”

“Yeah,” Hope confirms, before shaking her head quickly, “but don’t actually do that, I really don’t want to hear from Molly.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Hope grimaces, “She’s so…”

“So?” Amy raises a brow in a sense of rapt attention to the taller girl.

Hope breathes out a steady stream of air as she watches the scene unfolding on the TV, “I mean I love you, but it’s Davidson, Amy, I just can’t stand her.”

“Well luckily for you,” Amy tsks lightly in amusement, feeling a spur of confidence as she proudly glances to Hope and her occupied stare then back to the TV, “You’re not fucking my friend, your fucking me.”

“Uh,” Hope’s gaze immediately flicks down to Amy in shock, the red head realizing the vulgarity of her statement and instantly drops the remote in her lap to cover her face with both of her hands, Hope licks her lips after a minute, she can feel Amy shaking slightly from beside her, and Hope’s brows come together in a sense of concern, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Amy pulls a hand away to look at her girlfriend seconds later, and it’s now that Hope can fully make out that she’s not crying, but laughing. Hope guesses she’s laughing to stop herself from crying in favor of embarrassment, and for some reason her own demeanor shifts to laugh too. Fully trying to team into Amy’s questionable joke.

“That wasn’t what you were trying to say, was it?” Hope asks after the nervous laughter dies down a little bit, the TV is broadcasting a commercial that Amy hasn’t skipped over yet, and she seems to nod quickly, swallowing audibly before clearing her throat.

“Not exactly, no.”

“Well,” Hope gives a short chuckle, “I wouldn’t be caught dead with Molly anyway.”

“Please dear God, never give me that image.”

It was Hope’s turn to cover her face with her hands however, turning away in total utter disgust, seemingly the thought of something as profound as sleeping with Amy’s best friend makes it’s way into her brain seconds after her own words, causing her stomach to almost convulse at the thought.

“Fuck, why did you even—”

“I didn’t say it Hope,” Amy scoffs lightly, “You’re the one saying shit.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“No you’re not,” Amy replies nonchalantly, she shakes her head in some sense of amusement, “Calm down, it’s not like you’re _actually_ doing that, babe, it was just a scenario and a very bad one at that.”

“Molly,” Hope tries, attempting to form a coherent sentence, however still struggling to fully process how to actually function as a human being, “I rather burn at the goddamn stake then sleep with Molly.”

Amy shrugs, “I don’t know if she’s that bad of a person but okay.”

“Amy!” Hope jabs in an overly serious tone, her voice seemingly raising an octave and almost breaking, “We’re talking about _sleeping_ with her, not just having coffee and tea.”

Amy hums lightly in acknowledgement, almost like she was just following along with the conversation, barely taking note in her girlfriend’s crisis, reaching over to grab her mug from the side table to take a drink, “Thanks for helping make this tea.”

Hope shakes her head in some sort of frustration, “C’mon, be serious here.”

“I am, I am,” Amy nods in sudden agreement to Hope’s previous demand, shaking her head in worry moments later, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Hope sighs, looking to the screen before laughing softly at the sight. Jack McFarland, Will, and Grace’s friend was sat on the floor of him and his “wife’s” bedroom talking to Guapo and Klaus Von Puppy while trying to explain their future family situation. “Wait,” Hope pauses, clearing her throat and pointing a finger to the screen, “So I thought he was gay, right?”

“Yes,” Amy quickly addresses, “Karen arranged Jack and Rosario to get married because of her green card expiring a while ago.”

“But why would he put up with marrying her if…” Hope’s voice trails off, thinking for a minute, “So he did it as a favor?”

“Basically yeah, but Karen also helps support him financially so basically it was her call on what he did and didn’t do with his life,” Amy nods, “Anyway, you didn’t see it but in the last episode it was seen that she was actually cheating on him with Gardener.”

“She did not!” Hope gasps playfully, “That skanky bitch!”

“Hope,” Amy laughs, “Jack’s gay, it’s not that—”

“I know,” Hope cuts her off with an amused nod, “it’s just a show.”

“I mean who cheats in a fake marriage with your _gardener_?” Amy scorns with a large grin.

“Apparently everyone who’s a maid,” Hope deadpans sarcastically, “It’s not like I wouldn’t do it if we had a maid.”

The comment was clearly meant to be taken as a joke, however, Amy frowns, taking the comment literally, earning Hope’s knowing smirk to return as Amy looks back to the TV.

_“There’s something that I need to tell you,” Jack starts out, looking around before looking back onto something that wasn’t on screen, “Mommy and Daddy. Well,” he tilts his head to the side and looks down briefly as he brings both of his hands together to press against his nose, taking a deep breath, he looks up, “We’ve decided to live apart.” Jack continues to look at the objects off screen, separating his hands in reenactment of the future plans surrounding the probability of him and Rosario’s questionable divorce, and the screen flicks however onto his caged parrot and a golden Labrador Retriever seconds later._

Hope laughs at this sight, looking over to Amy who is indeed chuckling to herself as she leans over to try and capture a kernel from the plastic bowel that Hope had apparently almost emptied.

“You were kidding about the maid thing right?” Amy asks after a minute, the laugh track playing as Jack continued to talk to Guapo and Klaus Von Puppy.

“Of course,” Hope frowns, “I’d never cheat on you with some maid, that’s not my style.”

“Style?” Amy raises a brow.

“I much rather consider Grace to be a candidate.”

“Seriously?” Amy surmises with an unimpressed expression, “ _Grace_?”

“She can totally be _my_ thing.”

“No she can’t,” Amy stammers hesitantly, pursing her lips and shifting around, “You’re not going after Grace Adler, Hope,” Amy states sternly, pointing her thumb against her chest, “she’s _my_ thing.”

“No,” Hope shakes her head mockingly, “She can’t be your thing, you’re _my_ thing.”

Amy’s face contorts into one of concentration as she slumps back against the couch, processing the statement and suddenly breaking out in a wide smile, “Oh, babe!”

Hope gives a shrug, breathing out a steady stream of air with a cocky smile, “I mean, if worst comes to worst, I suppose we could have a threesome with Grace Adler if it’s _that_ important to you,” it’s blunt, and straight to the point, something that Hope’s known for in Amy’s books, however every time had a certain tendency of catching her off guard, her eyes practically bulge out of her head at the comment, her jaw coming to open involuntarily as she tries to get something coherent, though all she can muster is a faint ‘ _uh’_ in total awe of her ridiculous preposition, Hope looks over a minute later and laughs softly to herself in what Amy could only assume was satisfaction, her hand coming up to playfully push Amy’s mouth back closed, trailing her thumb along Amy’s chin, “You okay?” She raises a brow, “You got a little drool on your chin there Antsler.”

“S-Shut up,” Amy stammers, practically breathless, “I— Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I was kidding,” Hope states with an impressive smirk knowing that Amy’s on the verge of a mental world war three, “I could never—"

“No, no,” Amy cuts her off, taking a sharp intake of breath before biting the inside of her cheek, “I wouldn’t ever really normally be okay with that, but if we’re talking about fictional characters that’s another story.”

“You and your jealousy,” Hope mocks, rolling her eyes.

“I do _not_ get jealous,” Amy counters, “I just feel responsible as your girlfriend to be the only one _you_ have eyes for.”

“Again,” Hope shakes her head, “That’s jealousy babe, and I’ll admit, in certain situations it’s kinda hot.”

“We’re _not_ talking about this anymore.”

“Right,” Hope teases lightly, “You’re such a baby.”

“Ugh,” Amy groans, “Shut up.”

“You know, I only have eyes for you,” Hope derides, tapping Amy’s nose with her index finger causing other girl to frown, “Only one.”

“I know, I know,” Amy huffs, swatting the hand away before folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m only soft for you,” Hope continues on, “You _know_ this, calm the fuck down.”

“Okay,” Amy breathes out, “Yeah-uh— Sorry.”

Hope rolls her eyes again, running a hand though her hair, “And don’t tell Molly about me being like this to you,” Hope murmurs after a minute, “I don’t want to have to choke you out or something, I’m really getting to like you. I mean, you know just because we’re graduated and in college doesn’t mean I still don’t have to maintain my bad girl rep.”

“As if,” Amy laughs out mockingly, trying to reposition herself further against Hope’s side, the taller girl’s arm laying solely against the back of the couch as Amy pushes her cheek into the cotton fabric of Hope’s t-shirt and palms the edge of the comforter closer to her shoulders, managing to reposition herself in a half sitting-half laying manor while keeping her orthopedic walking boot stuck out freely on the foot stool, “My tall soft bean.”

“Shush,” Hope chuckles dryly, fumbling with the bottom of the bowel for stray kernels and individually popping them into her mouth, briefly skewing her view down to her girlfriend before looking at the TV, “You’re going to end up smoothing yourself with my right boob in about five seconds babe.”

The response is muffled in the side of Hope’s shirt as Amy smooths her cheek against the fabric, almost like she was getting comfortable on some sort of pillow, “Nowhere else I rather be.”

“Come on,” Hope grumbles sternly, “You can’t stay like this, you’re going to fucking squash me here.”

“Where is the truth?” Amy sarcastically jabs, meeting the other girl’s eyes with a wide grin, reaching a teasing hand up seconds later to playfully poke the end of her nose, making Hope frown and quickly snatch up the shorter girl’s hand.

“I’m not your pillow,” Hope replies, “Come on, you’ve got to move.”

She tries to reach down to shift Amy’s face to a more comfortable position to lay against her side only to have the other girl letting out a strong noise of disapproval at the feeling of Hope’s hands starting to smooth over her shoulder and the side of her face, the comforter falling from its position on Amy’s upper half making her frown and form a tight lipped pout as she pulls away slowly to her original position.

“Fine,” Amy grumbles to herself, the reaction makes Hope chuckle and roll her eyes.

“It’s not that serious,” Hope surmises, shifting slightly against the couch before waving her hand back against her side, “you come back here,” the comment being greeted with Amy shaking her head in frustration.

“It is _too_ ,” Amy whines, “I want to just _do_ whatever that was,” she gestures to Hope’s chest and it makes the taller girl purse her lips in some sort of mixed frown.

“I think you were trying to either smash my non-existent boob or smothering yourself, and let me first handily say that I am not particularly _for_ either of those things,” Hope’s hand comes up to subconsciously shift her breast around and slumps back against the couch absentmindedly, “Damn you and your thick skull.”

“Skull?” Amy laughs out, “You’re the weakling here.”

If looks could kill, Amy would’ve died several times by now, the stern side glare from Hope sends some kind of sense of amusement to bubble within the brink of her gut, Hope’s expression turns into a full blown scowl at the statement, “I could sit on you right fucking now Antsler, you’d pass the fuck out and I doubt you could stop me.”

“Sit on what exactly?” Amy raises a brow, and Hope grumbles softly to herself.

“I’m about to McFucking lose it.”

“Quit quoting Instagram zodiac sign memes, you’re not a depressed fourteen year old white girl who spends too much time in her room anymore,” Amy jabs back as Hope’s gaze flicks itself back onto the fast food commercial that plays out on the TV and huffs sarcastically.

“I’m not even going to comment on how many stereotypes your offending by that last statement being semi-accurate,” Hope deadpans, “Fuck you.”

“What?” Amy mockingly raises a brow in confusion, “Why?”

“Just because,” Hope shrugs nonchalantly, “Fuck you, just because.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah well,” Hope trails off, “You don’t make sense sometimes.”

“What even is this argument?”

“I have no idea,” Hope shrugs bluntly, “I think we’re out of popcorn though.”

Amy makes some noise that sounds between a soft shriek and a whine and it makes Hope look over in concern as she extends the bowel to Amy’s eyes, indeed a small portion of unpopped kernels sat collected against the plastic curved edge as she tilted it towards Amy’s eyes.

“You ate all of it?”

Hope smiles sheepishly, “It would appear that way.”

“You’re a vacuum cleaner.”

“I can suck a lot of things down I guess,” Hope murmurs nonchalantly, “But I don’t see the innuendo in that department, I’m not a duck babe.”

“Right, and I didn’t sprain my ankle on a trampoline when you took me to _Sky Zone_ a few days ago.”

“It’s your fault for trying to do a back flip into the foam pit,” Hope responds.

Amy’s jaw practically opens to protest something, holding her hands up in a mock attempt to state something to contradict Hope’s claim, gesturing to her right foot and back to her girlfriend, before leaning down to skim her fingers against the hard plastic that enclosed her ankle, “You were the one who _dared_ me to do it! Despite the damn rules.”

“It’s not like I thought you’d actually jump,” Hope counters firmly, “I was just joking, there were a bunch of five year-olds making fun of you for being such a chicken and not wanting to actually jump into the pit.”

“That doesn’t mean you _dare_ me to do it!” Amy protests, only to have Hope give a simple shrug.

“I mean, you ended up doing an amazing flip.”

Amy frowns, “Yeah, no, I failed that. Slipping on something because of those damn socks. You _know_ they were _so_ fucking hot, my feet could not fucking _breathe_ , and in turn I just twisted the shit out of my ankle, and smacked the side of my face on one of the barriers of the pit.”

“The lady was turned, you were fine,” Hope shakes her head, “You can’t break rules if no one important sees you do it.”

Amy frowns, “You had to _carry_ me out of there because I was crying so much Hope.”

“You couldn’t even put pressure on your foot Ames.”

Amy huffs out something incoherent, folding her arms over her chest, she sighs, “I heard some boy call me old on our way out.”

“Just be glad that it wasn’t a fracture though,” Hope finishes, “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that my date night idea ended up with us going to the emergency room and your whole leg in a cast.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it over again,” Amy laughs softly, “I liked you carrying me everywhere for that first night.”

“Well my back didn’t like it much.”

“Mhm, sure,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Tell that to your past self who was so adamant on being able to carry me up three flights of stairs and through a locked doorway.”

Hope shakes her head, letting out a grunt in frustration, “Tell _that_ to the part where I had to hear you bitch at me for thirty minutes because you couldn’t grab the TV remote.”

“I was in _pain_ ,” Amy exclaims sharply, “I had a _fair_ excuse.”

“Yeah, and you fell asleep watching _South Park_ after drinking like, five cups of coffee. I mean, I don’t even understand how that’s even possible to do.”

“You can’t give me shit about that,” Amy groans out, “You love me,” Amy fathoms sternly, reaching a hand out to cup the side of Hope’s face, changing the taller girl’s frown to a small smile.

“Yeah, I guess I’m not being _completely_ held against my will.”

“See?” Amy teases, “I’m not such a nerd.”

“Only one who watches elementary schoolers getting into weird trouble that involves scenarios with cartoon _blood_ and _vomit_ , and yet, still complains about _Jerry Springer_ being ‘ _violent_.’ I see your logic.”

“It was _one_ time Hope,” Amy groans, “And the only other time was when we went to your Uncle’s wedding in Barcelona.”

“God, please don’t say Barcelona again, I’m getting Miss Fine flashbacks.”

“ _Barcelona_.”

“I will knock you the fuck out,” Hope scolds, “I do _not_ want to think of the travesty that was George and Alan right now.”

“They were not travesties,” Amy corrects, “They were very fashionable actually.”

“And passionately annoying everyone who _was_ not and _did_ not want to be a part of theater.”

Amy rolls her eyes and shrugs, “I mean, you do have a point though.”

“Well, I’m glad you agree.”

Amy nods firmly, looking to the TV before reaching over to the bowel that sat on the other side of Hope’s bent legs, “So are we _really_ out of popcorn?”

Hope raises a brow again, reaching a hand to quickly grab the edge of the bowel and pass it over to her girlfriend, watching as Jack and Grace interact within Will’s apartment.

Sure enough, Amy groans, the noise causing Hope to chuckle softly to herself and quickly take the dish from her Amy’s hands, flinging the edge of the comforter off of herself, and getting up to pad across the hardwood floor into the kitchenet.

“I’ll make you more if you really want it,” Hope states after a minute, reaching into a high cupboard, fishing a half empty bag from a shelf and unthreading the makeshift bread tie that held it closed, taking the pan from the stove, Hope begins to clean it out before pouring vegetable oil into it as well as some of the kernels.

“Can you make me some more tea?” Amy asks after a minute, reaching over to her side to take a long drink of her now cooled off drink, emptying it afterwards.

“Tea?” Hope asks lightly.

“Mhm,” Amy nods, making Hope hum softly in approval as she flips open the same cupboard again.

“You sound so old,” Hope teases as she walks back over to take Amy’s mug, filling it beneath the sink’s faucet, and turning towards Amy as she rips open the package with her teeth, untangling the small tea bag and dipping it into the water that occupied the mug, “ _make me more tea_ ,” she mocks lightly.

“It _has_ health benefits,” Amy states boldly, picking the remote up to begin flipping through the TV guide again before turning on a mid-afternoon talk show, “Plus you know I don’t drink coffee often.”

“Right,” Hope murmurs bluntly, shifting the pan abruptly around the stovetop’s electric burner, the contents inside beginning to resonate within the room as the kernels begin to pop while Amy’s tea slowly turned inside of the microwave beside her. The taller girl continuing to focus her attention on the popcorn for another minute, then stepping away and turning the heat down when she does, Hope grabs the used bowel from where she had set it aside on the counter, dumping the old maids into the garbage, and soon after finding herself refiling the bowel again with new cooked popcorn, shaking it afterward and trading it off to Amy, who seemed to be watching her as she moved, almost like she was entertained at the sight.a

“Thanks babe,” she smiles softly, subconsciously trying to push herself towards Hope’s body as she grabs the bowel from her hands, craning her face up in a somewhat unspoken demand, Hope hums out again in reply leaning her face down to peck her lips quickly before turning on her heel back down the hallway. Amy’s fingers starting to dig through the popcorn strategically, almost like she was searching for one in particular before popping a cluster into her mouth, the flavor blooming on her tongue as she shifts slightly, watching the TV suddenly change channels.

It startles her at first glance, causing her to look around for the remote within her general arm’s reach and suddenly realizing that she can’t seem to find it anywhere, it makes her groan as she watches the name of the show pop up onto the screen.

“You’re finally giving in to watch _Jerry Springer_?”

Hope’s voice startles her, and Amy jumps slightly as she finds Hope going back into the kitchenet to finish preparing her tea, “Not by choice,” Amy mutters duly, “I lost the remote.”

“That’s fun.”

“Not really what I had in mind,” Amy sighs, “I mean I don’t—"

Amy’s cut off by the screen flicking to a young African American man who’s sat in a small office chair, an older man, _Jerry_. Stands beside him, a big notecard that had his own name printed onto the back of it, Amy can just make out the faint words of him explaining what his issue was.

“Oh jeez,” Hope states, getting closer to the TV, “What’s this guy’s deal?”

A phrase pops up on the bottom of the screen after a minute that makes Amy’s brows furrow, “He had sex with his cousin’s girlfriend.”

“Why, _that’s_ something,” Hope mutters bluntly, Amy sits up straighter to try and get a good glimpse of what was going on. Within minutes there’s more discussed and it’s revealed that his cousin just so happened to be a lesbian, making her relationship be in question of the stability and likelihood of it being true and realistic.

“Why would you do something like that?” Amy asks grimly, “That’s just _rude_.”

“Why is the crowd chanting that?” Hope questions further, making Amy frowns in confusion.

“Chanting what?” she asks, “I don’t hear them saying anything.”

“Yeah they are,” Hope nods, gesturing her chin to the TV, “I can hear them, they’re all chanting _‘we love lesbians.’_ ”

“Turn this off,” Amy states firmly, her face practically contorting into a scowl, pointing her hand to the TV, before shifting and trying to find the remote again, shaking her head and groaning out sharply in defeat seconds later, “I’m not putting up with this questionable homophobia.”

“It’s not---” Hope almost laughs, a large grin adoring her face in amusement due to Amy’s previous comment, she shakes her head as she grabs the somewhat cooled off mug and slowly walks it over to her girlfriend, “Oh my God, Amy, your too much, I swear.”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy stammers quietly, nodding towards the screen again as she takes the mug into her hands, “The ref women—” Amy breathes out, “Literally flashed the audience minutes earlier, with that other girl- woman, before literally making out with her for a minute.”

“Again,” Hope shakes her head, “This is _Jerry Springer_ , it’s not meant to make much sense.”

“Which is why I don’t understand why your watch it,” Amy huffs, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Calm down,” Hop rolls her eyes, “It’s fine, it’s just a show.”

“But still,” Amy tries, “Why would you be interested in _that_?”

“It’s a rerun, I’ve seen it before,” Hope runs a hand through her hair, “I believe at that halftime “performance” he was referring to beforehand, some chick is like…” Hope’s voice trails off, “I have no idea, I don’t understand it.”

“What?”

“There’s some questionable activities done by women during that time.”

“Um,” Amy fumbles for a minute, “Like what?”

“It’s not important.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Amy replies.

“Yeah,” Hope looks away, Amy swears she can make out a blush as Hope swallows abruptly and moves to quickly turn the TV onto a different input channel and slumps down to the cabinet below the TV.

“Are you embarrassed?” Amy asks curiously as Hope shifts around, moving something around that Amy can’t quite see yet.

“Embarrassed?” Hope scoffs, looking at her girlfriend for a minute, “Why would I be _embarrassed_?”

“Your turning red,” Amy states bluntly, the comment making Hope’s hands immediately come up to press against her cheeks at the mention, turning back to the TV stand, and grunting softly in frustration as she paws at some of the things in the cabinets before dropping something accidently beside her and fumbling to not drop it again.

“How about this,” Hope quips airily, Amy can hear Hope’s voice raise in pitch slightly as she swallows and clears her throat loudly, “I’ll kick your ass at _Mario Kart_?”

Amy frowns, “You can’t just change the subject like that.”

“Amy,” Hope sighs, “I really do _not_ want to talk about _that_.”

“You’re being such a prude right now, wow.”

Hope’s lips form a scowl as she powers on both controllers and tosses one into the space beside Amy’s right leg, nearly missing the edge of her boot, as she storms back up to the couch and plops down.

“Shut up, I’m not a prude.”

“You’re the one getting flustered by strange women on _Jerry Springer_.”

Hope stammers momentarily, “I was not _flustered_ , you’re just trying to connect dots that do not exist.”

“Sure, sure,” Amy teases.

Hope looks over to Amy’s hands as they grip the Wii remote before glancing back to the TV with a prompt reading something regarding Amy’s controller being inactive, “Hit start so I can beat you nerd.”

“Not if I beat you first,” Amy counters.

“ _Right_ ,” Hope mutters dully, “So if _you_ win, I’ll do the dishes, and if _I_ win…” Hope’s voice trails off as she selects the stage and the loading screen appears.

“You what?” Amy questions further. The Lakitu floating down with his stoplight on a string as the numeric countdown timer appears in the center of each of the split screens after the course cutscene plays. The start whistle immediately sounding after one, and the noise allowing the karts to begin zipping through the obstacle course afterwards, both of them gaining a speed boost as Hope manages to miraculously launch herself into 3rd without trouble.

Amy’s wrists jerk to the right after her sprite runs through a line of question mark boxes that were supposedly containing items to help influence her position during the race, tilting her controller to match the direction of the track as she drifts at the broad turns, “What do you want?”

“More of last night,” Hope answers without skipping a beat, managing to swerve her kart around a stray banana peel that a CPU had flung behind themselves seconds before.

Amy lets out a laugh in amusement, speeding past Hope’s sprite with a drift boost, securing the first place position for a split second, yet accidently drifting over the red and white line along the edge of the course, slowing her character immensely. She glances to Hope’s screen to see Luigi utilize a given mushroom and speed back into second then past her character effortlessly. It makes her grit her teeth in frustration as she regains her mobility. Determination striking her as she struggles to overcome the second place position that was being used by a Princes Peach sprite.

“You don’t need to ask for that Hope,” Amy shakes her head in annoyance, swerving into another set of item boxes and holding the gifted banana peel behind herself until lapping the finish line for the next lap.

Hope scoffs, “I know, but it’ll makes this more fun,” Hope’s whole body attempts to shift in the same motion that her character was turning, her arms bending and contorting in a certain awkward manor that would look ultimately weird out of context, shaking it firmly as she achieves a jump, her character preforming a trick on his bike before landing back on their wheels with a slight boost.

“I guess so,” Amy ponders lightly, her Toad passing over the same jump, and running into another line of item boxes, the roulette wheel chiming and coming to rest on something that made Amy smirk triumphantly, “You’re about to lose,” she chimes smartly.

“What?” Hope mocks, “No way.”

“Yes _way_.” Amy states positively, “I just got a blue shell and it’s got your name written all over it _bitch_.”

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” Hope counters, slipping into second place immediately afterward as Amy launches the item into the air, a CPU’s Donkey Kong speeding past Hope, allowing the blue shell to zip by beside her, stunning him momentarily and permitting her to come back into first unscathed.

“Fucking damnit,” Amy practically seethes, glancing over to the split screen.

Hope nudges Amy’s right arm with her left playfully, as she passes the finish line again, the last lap tune answering her action, “Suck it.”

“Fuck you,” Amy scorns dramatically, “I’m coming for you asshole.”

“Right,” Hope laughs softly, Luigi zipping around a curve and flying through a group of item boxes, “Fat chance you’ll succeed Antsler.”

Toad follows behind, closely gaining on Hope’s tail, the item wheel chiming and falling on another banana peel. With some strange luck Amy manages to fling it forward causing Hope to practically yell, barely missing it and instead continuing to taunt Amy by boasting her position verbally.

She looks over to Hope’s screen to see the finish line approaching steadily after another minute, and with some sort of confidence as Hope leans in her direction on a turn left, she swiftly manages to smack Hope’s controller out of her grip, the taller girl quickly shouting in response to the sudden outburst while trying to scramble to scoop it up from the floor, only to have Amy zipping past her and finishing first.

She ends up however, finishing eighth, staying silent as the numbers tally on the screen before the leaderboard appears in front of them both, staring at the screen in what Amy assumes is complete furry.

It’s a surge of confidence and a blind reach for her mug of tea from the side table that earns Hope’s eyes to dart to her firstly. Slurping the liquid dramatically, only to find Hope throwing the remote onto the ground and getting up to storm off.

It makes Amy laugh softly to herself, pulling the dish from her mouth to call out her girlfriend’s name.

“You cheated!” Hope rashly hollers, her tone a sense of hurt mixed with frustration, “That wasn’t the agreement.”

“Hey,” Amy shrugs, throwing out a cocky peace sign, “Suck my dick, I don’t care.”

“No you—” Hope frowns, cutting herself off, “You—” she opens and closes her mouth over and over again, stammering as she feels Amy’s eyes scan her demeanor while she stands on the verge of a total meltdown.

“Words hon.”

Hope’s voice chokes on the first syllable, choosing to restart the words over again before huffing out a sharp stream of air and grabbing her controller from where she threw it, holding it to Amy’s eyes, her own narrowing in a sense of confidence, “I want a rematch.”

“You’re on loser.”

Hope clears her throat, choosing to sit on the opposite arm of the couch, glancing over to Amy before smirking to herself, “Your gonna be eating it in a minute crutchy.”

“The only thing I’m going to be eating is—” Amy cuts herself off, swallowing the rest of the phrase as Hope begins another race.

“Eating what?” Hope raises a brow with a smirk.

“Nothing,” Amy dismisses, “Never mind. Shut up, goddamn.”

“Love you too babe, ”

“I never said anything—” she glances over, going quiet a second later, a small smile brushing across her lips before laughing softly in sheer disbelief, “Love you.”

Hope imitates cracking her neck, attempting to mock some sort of sense of confidence, “Now,” she starts out, “be prepared to lose.”

“As if,” Amy calls back dramatically, “Your gonna be crying when you’re eating dirt.”

“Fuck off,” Hope calls back, flipping Amy off and giving her another eyeroll, “Select the course, let’s fucking do this shit.”

“ _Rainbow Road_ ,” Amy states, “The road for _all_ the gays.”

Hope scoffs, “The place where the gays come to die.”

 _“Hope!”_ Amy chastise.

“Not funny?” Hope asks, glancing over with a raised brow, Amy shakes her head in annoyance.

“That’s not—” Amy starts out, “Morbid shit isn’t something to joke about.”

Hope rolls her eyes again, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, “I was trying to say, there’s so many hurdles to fall off the damn course,” Hope states, “That’s why I was like—”

“Oh,” Amy cuts her off, “Okay, well I guess I can see how that’s funny.”

“I swear,” Hope groans, “Your so uptight, you don’t understand humor.”

“I can be _not_ uptight.”

“You mean _loose_?” Hope questions, “ _Honey_ , I hope you realize the only place your _loose_ is—”

“ _Don’t_ even think about finishing that statement,” Amy replies sharply, “I may be crippled but I will _still_ throw this couch pillow at you.”

“But I’m your girlfriend,” Hope teases, “That _should_ grant me some kind of immunity.”

“Yeah,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Being your girlfriend _should_ mean you quit being a bitch to me, but I don’t think that ever happened.”

“I mean, you’re here so apparently I’m doing something right,” Hope quips dryly.

“ _Something_ like that,” Amy shrugs, “Molly still doesn’t understand it.”

“She doesn’t understand anything about me,” Hope surmises, “I’m pretty sure she’ll hate me even after we’re married.”

“Married?” Amy practically wheezes out, looking over to Hope’s nonchalant expression.

“Sure,” Hope shrugs.

“I-uh, I doubt Molly hates you,” Amy stammers, “She doesn’t understand our relationship.”

“Understand what though?” Hope dismisses, “The fact that we’re _living_ together, or how I’ve legitimately been the reason for half of your bodily related injuries?”

“Injuries?”

“Your finger,” Hope points out.

“Oh,” Amy nods, “ _That_.”

“Come on,” Hope breathes out, “Pull yourself together _crutchy_.”

“Alright, alright,” Amy shakes her head, “Start the race, quit calling me that.”

“Can’t help it,” Hope smirks, the screen changing to oversee the course, causing the taller girl to imitate a fake cough seconds before the Lakitu floats down into the split screen windows, “ _Crutchy_.”

 _“Eat shit,”_ Amy calls back, sticking her tongue out at her girlfriend and revving her kart’s engine.

“Bite me Antsler,” Hope states, “You wound me.”

“Nah,” Amy rejects, “You love me.”

“Damn right I do.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> _i was in a wal-mart on sunday around 7:15pm and had a slight epiphany in the middle of the produce section with my dad... Taylor Swift's "If This Were A Movie" was playing over the PA system and i just was like... "You know what? Everything is just gonna be okay... even if there's a pandemic and all... it's just gonna be fine. Your fine, stop being over dramatic and depressed about life... your good, and people are just people."_
> 
> _but in other words... don't you just love being single as fuck?_
> 
> _yeah... me too fam..._
> 
> _check out my weird photos of nature and random things i photograph around my house on insta - @gaypieceofbooksmarttrash_
> 
> _aye... all i want out of life is soft!hope and chilling out on a couch with popcorn while watching daytime tv... can i have this relationship ever? ughhhhhh.... also probably one of the only people legit in the universe who does not have any sort of streaming apps... watch none of this make sense at all... whoops... can't believe i wrote this._
> 
> _Yes this is how i twisted my ankle when i was 9... i don't want to even go there... my ex friends are evil shitbags and i can never back down from dares._
> 
> _"i feel bad" - blackbear_
> 
> _okay... sorry that this sucks... fucking shoot me please... bye._


End file.
